Intimate relationships grow and change -- or else they cease to exist.
Our relationship is different today than it was nine years ago; different than it was a year ago; and we are struggling to learn new patterns and new ways of being together with one another. Sometimes that is light and funny, and sometimes it is tense and scary. If we were once certain and sure of our footing with each other, now we are far more tentative.
In these last weeks, as His interest in switching has blossomed, we've spent more time with Him in the role of bottom, and me playing the top. I can be a very competent top. I am skilled with a variety of implements, and I do a pretty good job of reading His reactions and responses. Sometimes, I find that entertaining and interesting. He is cute; so innocently amazed and intrigued with these new drives and desires -- and simultaneously nervous, anxious, and afraid. Still, He taunts and teases me; wiggling His cute little Impy butt, and playing the part of the smart alec bottom... until I give Him what He wants -- the threat of a spanking.
For my part, it is no secret that I have struggled in the role of masochistic bottom for the last number of years. "Wanting it" has been , for me, an "iffy" proposition. I've wanted to please Him, and wanted to serve, and wanted to submit. I've even wanted to scratch the itch that only a masochist really understands. But then, in the face of actual intensity and real pain, I cave more often than not, and break down sobbing, or I bolt and run, or I simply react with anger and frustration and bitterness. Whatever, it is hard (in those circumstances) to claim that I "want" to be spanked.
So. He maybe wants to be spanked -- or maybe not. I maybe want to be spanked -- or maybe not. Neither of us are sure about our own wants and needs, and we surely aren't sure about the other one. Once, He would have simply said what He wanted; made the decision, and that would have been that. Now though, as our lives are shaped by the AA religion, He is careful to be mindful of being powerless, and cautious about trying to control anything -- and that includes me. Left in a power void, we bob and weave and test the waters. We negotiate. It is an agonizing process.
That set of realities made it sweeter this morning when I finally managed to convince Him that I wanted a spanking -- when He finally managed to convince me that He wanted to spank me. Finding ourselves in accord made the two of us almost giddy as I got myself into place over our favorite spanking pillow. Those brand new Leather Thorn paddles were, at last, pulled out to be used on me, and I quivered with the anticipation of brand new sensations.
He started right off with the ImpLament paddle, telling me that He thought it was a great warmup toy. I wasn't entirely sure I agreed with that assessment. It seemed a bit intense as a beginning, but He used it gently with quick rapid strokes, and I accommodated pretty quickly.
It didn't last long and He switched over to knives, stroking with tips and edges and the flat of the blades. Different knives are different on my skin. When I can't see them, my mind tends to focus in on the sensations. Some are rougher while others are silken smooth as they trace across my back and butt and legs. One might feel heavy, while a different blade seems springy and flexible. This morning, for the first time ever, I noticed the temperature of the different knives. The first one He used on my seemed warm on my skin; as if He'd held it in His hand long enough to raise it to body temperature. I was entranced. I don't think I've ever noticed a blade feeling warm before. The next one was colder, and I really noticed the difference. Then another -- not quite as chill, but not exactly warm either. How intriguing!
He traced the cutting with one particularly sharp tip, applying enough pressure to be uncomfortably sharp. Over the years, that act of tracing those marks on my flesh has had the effect of dropping me into a deeply submissive mindset. In these last months, I've been very aware of the cutting. It has been a touchstone through these stormy months -- a permanent, definitive reminder of the commitments made so many years ago. With very little in the way of external controls, my mind has wrapped itself around the scar lines on my left shoulder blade, and clung to that symbol for dear life. This morning, He traced it over and over, as if reminding Himself what it was, and I heard myself moan and whimper. That soft sound wove out of me and around the two of us, and it was as if I could feel us draw closer.
Then He want back to spanking me. There are two paddles from Leather Thorn -- The Imp Lament, and another that is smaller and a bit stingier. They aren't very different -- just a little. He used them both, at the same time, as if He was drumming on my ass. We've often done two-handed flogging, but I don't think I've ever experienced two-handed paddling, and this was wonderful, fascinating -- breath-taking. Wow!
He went to using heavier Leather Thorn toys -- that new tawse/paddle thingy, and our old Son of Buster paddle. And I fussed and gasped and writhed and howled -- and He just went on, pleasing Himself and me too. Back and forth, and round and round, through the various paddle options -- until my butt was burning hot and stingy.
When it was over, I was happy and loopy. I was also sexually aroused. SEXUALLY AROUSED -- me! He drew me in, and held me close and rocked me softly against His chest. I smiled and cooed soft noises into His fur, and let Him guide us through the rest of our morning. It was pure sweet joy.
I've gone through the day with a stingy, tender backside -- and it makes me smile. I enjoyed a spanking -- as a spanking -- for myself. And He seemed to enjoy it too. Whatever we are becoming together, I believe this morning was part of walking that path. We are learning our way back together. There are no words for how I feel -- glad, thrilled, ecstatic? I don't know. I hope all of you know what I mean.